


A Small Umbrella in the Rain

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Series: Sunshower [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Demon & Human Interactions, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons Being Sunshined Into Submission, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, Slice of Life, aggressive kindness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: Namurta, demoness of Acedia, has finally completed her two-thousand-year sentence for her attempted assassination of Ambassador Ambrose Tennyson. The prince has given her a chance to redeem herself by stranding her in the human world with a girl who, for reasons the demon has yet to place, seems stupidly determined to make her become a better person.
Relationships: Original Demon Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Demon Character(s)/Original Female Human Character(s), Original Demon Character(s)/Original Human Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Sunshower [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127726
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lachesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115118) by [bloodofthepen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofthepen/pseuds/bloodofthepen). 



> Sometimes you see a random tertiary character who gets thirty seconds of page time and think to yourself, "If the author isn't gonna give you the screen time you deserve, then I will."

Namurta sat quietly in the back of a pitch-black limousine, leaning against the door and gazing indifferently out the tinted window. Her dark eyes flickered to Barbatos, who was sitting across from her. His gaze hadn’t moved from her during the entire car ride, and she simply smirked and waggled her fingers at him. His frown deepened by the tiniest amount, but it was gone as quickly as it’d appeared.

Not that it mattered to her. For as long as she could remember (which was quite a long time, all things considered), not much of anything had mattered to her. Not her own existence. Not Belphegor’s plot to kill Ambrose Tennyson (though the human in question was presumably long dead by now). Not her two-thousand-year punishment.

And _certainly_ not Diavolo’s plan to make her see the error of her ways.

“Community service”, he had called it. She would spend an undetermined time in the human world under the watch of a human who had volunteered to look after her, and immerse herself in humanity’s culture and lifestyle. Hopefully, she would come to see the error of her ways and develop a greater appreciation for humanity and Diavolo’s dream.

How foolish. At least Barbatos had the sense not to put much faith in her.

The limo eventually slowed to a halt, and the chauffeur exited the front seat to let the two demons out. Namurta got out first, with the butler following close behind, his eyes burning holes into her back. She glanced around the area they’d parked, her eyes half-lidded with disinterest. It wasn’t a particularly _nice_ area, and was mostly human-looking, save for the few touches of demonic architecture accenting the various buildings.

One such building was an apartment complex, with a sign out front that said, “All Inhuman Entities Welcome!” She snorted under her breath, and pointedly ignored the withering glare Barbatos gave her.

“Follow me,” he said, brushing past her and entering the front door of the apartment complex. She trudged after him, her boots dragging against the floor as he led her up a couple flights of stairs. The pair of them eventually stood in front of an apartment door, where he lifted a hand to press the doorbell, then simply folded his hands behind his back and waited.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Namurta resisted the urge to automatically shield her eyes from how disgustingly _bright_ the human standing on the other side was. Her blonde and pink hair was too bright, her skin was too warm and tan, and the sunlight that reflected off the oval spectacles she wore made her want to smack them off her annoyingly youthful face.

When the human saw the two demons standing in the doorway, her expression lit up and somehow made her look even _brighter._ If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed the human was some sort of angel.

“Good afternoon, Duke Barbatos!” she greeted him, before turning to her with an equally bright smile and saying, “And good afternoon to you too, Namurta!”

The demon felt her lip curl, but before she could respond, Barbatos inclined his head with a polite smile and reminded her, “I’ve told you there’s no need to refer to me by my title, Siria.”

“I know, but I’d feel kinda bad if I didn’t,” she laughed. “Will you be able to stick around?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, smiling faintly as he gestured to Namurta. “I’m only here to see her off and tie up any remaining loose ends. Have you made all of the necessary accommodations?”

“Yep!” she confirmed, clasping her hands behind her back. “Thank you so much for convincing my landlord and employers to take her on, by the way. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it without you!”

“I’m simply doing my job,” he reassured her. His gaze flickered to Namurta, and his smile became noticeably colder. “Oh, and don’t bother attempting to escape. The seal prevents you from enacting on any ill intentions that may arise during your time here.”

“Oh,” Siria whispered, her gaze flickering from Barbatos to the seal burned into Namurta’s cheek, and back again. “That’s really… _oh._ Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“The alternative was removing her from this timeline and wiping her from existence.”

The color drained from her face, and her gaze once again darted between the two demons for a few brief moments. “That seems…even _more_ excessive.”

“She is here now, isn’t she?” he replied simply. “I would think we’re well past debating the excessiveness of punishments that have either already occurred, or never will.”

“I…guess so.” Her gaze moved to Namurta, her brow furrowed in concern. “Did it hurt?”

The demon raised a brow in turn. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re living with me for the next…well, I dunno how long you’ll be staying with me, but I don’t want you to get _hurt_ while you’re here!” she insisted, looking slightly affronted.

Her stomach churned unpleasantly, and for a moment she was brought back to the Midnight Court—to the seven lords seated before her, calling for her head. The prince with his strange little smile as he sentenced her to _Peine Forte et Dure_ at the behest of his butler _._

The human, Ambrose…even after becoming the victim of attempted murder, looking to the butler and appealing to him despite their lack of a voice.

 _Please. I value_ her _life, too._

Barbatos’ voice cut through her train of thought without warning. “Now, the final order of business.”

He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket and produced a black credit card, with gold numbers and letters stamped into the plastic. Namurta’s eyes narrowed slightly. So _that_ was why she’d had chosen to look after her. She was getting _paid_ for it—

“Barbatos, what is that?”

The nervousness that plagued the human’s voice gave her pause, and her confusion only grew when she saw the human’s wide, panicked eyes, almost recoiling away from the credit card held between his fingers as though she'd never seen one before.

“You needn’t worry, this isn’t a salary,” the butler was quick to reassure her. “It’s only a stipend. Five hundred dollars, solely to cover Namurta’s expenses. The card will be magically refilled every month, starting today.”

Siria’s gaze darted frantically between the card, Barbatos’ face, and Namurta. “But…this is too much, I couldn’t—”

“My lord originally wanted to make you the equivalent of a human millionaire,” Barbatos informed her, his words teasing as he watched her make a choked noise at the back of her throat. “I was barely able to convince him otherwise, so I suggest you take it before I’m unable to sway him again.”

“I…alright then,” she acquiesced uncertainly, gingerly taking the credit card from him and tucking it into the pocket of her shorts. “As long as it's only for Namurta.”

“Excellent,” he replied briskly, giving her a final polite smile and nod as he prepared to go back downstairs. “Feel free to contact me if any complications arise.”

“They won’t, I promise!” she reassured him, waving cheerfully as he went downstairs once more.

Once Barbatos was gone, Siria turned to fully face Namurta and gave her the most blinding smile the demon had ever seen.

“Come in! I’ll show you around the apartment,” she said, stepping aside to let her go inside.

“Doesn’t look like there’s much for you to show,” she drawled, her gaze roving around the building’s sparsely decorated interior as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“I don’t mind, but then again, I’ve lived here for years now,” she said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it once you stick around long enough!”

Namurta paused, then slowly turned on her heel to face Siria with a raised brow. “Don’t you mean _if?_ I stick around long enough?”

She blinked, still all smiles despite the clear confusion on her face. “No? Why would I?”

Before she had any time to react, the demon was in front of her, leaning down so their faces were only inches away from each other. Her skin had turned a sickly shade of grey, and the blackness in her eyes had completely swallowed what little remained of her sclera. And with the collar of her shirt and blazer being so haphazardly thrown on, she was able to see what looked like turtle shell plates lining her collarbone peeking out from underneath.

“I suggest you take the butler’s advice and give him a call,” she murmured, her eyes becoming half-lidded as her greyish lips curled up in a wicked smile, forcing Siria to look straight into the inky depths of her eyes. “I assure you, there will be _many_ complications if you don’t give up this selfless little farce of yours, _human._ ”

The smile on Siria’s face became visibly strained, but nevertheless, she squared her shoulders and looked Namurta dead in the eye. “I’m not gonna call Barbatos. I could’ve applied to house any other demon, and I still stand by my decision to choose _you._ I have my reasons, and nothing you say or do will change them.”

Then, Siria’s expression brightened once more, and she clapped her hands together once for emphasis, as though she hadn’t just talked down a demon who’d threatened her life a few seconds ago. “C’mon! I still need to show you your room!”

And suddenly, she found herself being dragged down the hallway by a tiny human with an iron grip on her wrist, who, for some inexplicable reason, seemed hellbent on making Namurta her latest pet project.

Maybe she should’ve just stayed in the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](https://hyllatavorianaldan.tumblr.com/post/641392404648329216/picrews-done-by-me-and-bloodofthepen-picrews) are the picrews me and bloodofthepen made of Siria and Namurta.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to update this chapter earlier than usual because I opened up another blog dedicated to my writing stuff, including this fic. There still aren't many posts since I just finished it last night, but if you're interested, go check it out [here](https://hyllaswriting.tumblr.com/).

“You need new clothes,” Siria announced, having walked up to Namurta at the cash register she was working at while she scanned items with all the enthusiasm of a human filing taxes.

She glanced up at her, reaching over and unceremoniously dropping one of the recently-scanned items into a plastic bag. “Why? The stuff I brought from the Devildom works just fine.”

“Because none of it fits you!” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. “The only thing you have that fits you is your work uniform, and that’s because _I_ made sure it was your size! Just because your sin is Acedia doesn’t mean you can’t look nice every now and again!”

“That’s _exactly_ what it means,” she deadpanned. “Besides, I’m busy working.”

“Your shift ends in less than a minute,” she replied smugly.

Namurta blinked once, and proceeded to slowly, deliberately, slide another item into the bagging area. “ _Fine._ Let’s just get this over with,” she groaned.

“Great!” she cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for Namurta to ring up her last customer. As soon as she handed the customer their groceries and sent them on their way, Siria jogged around the conveyor belt and took hold of her wrist, tugging her away from the cash register and dragging her all the way to the clothing section.

“Is this going to be a running theme with you?” she asked with a raised brow. “Dragging me everywhere you go?”

“Only until you start following me voluntarily!” she replied. “So if you want me to stop dragging you around, then start cooperating!”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, only to pause when Siria finally let go of her wrist and stood there with an expectant smile on her face. Only then did Namurta realize the two of them had somehow ended up in the clothing section within the span of a short conversation, and at this point, she really didn't care enough to question it.

“Pick whatever you want as long as it fits you properly!” she said, making a sweeping gesture with her arm towards the wide selection of clothes.

“What happened to ‘pick whatever you want’?” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I _obviously_ can’t trust you to pick clothes that aren’t ill-fitting, so I need to lay down those boundaries now!” she shot back, crossing her own arms over her chest with a huff. “I even thought about making you get rid of those boots, but I felt bad because I figured you might wanna keep them.”

“They’re just boots, I wouldn’t have cared,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she spoke.

“Well I _do_ ,” she said, her smile widening as she stalked forward and jabbed Namurta in the chest with her index finger. “I know _you_ don’t care because that's been your thing since before I even existed. But that doesn’t mean _I_ don’t care.”

Her eyes narrowed sharply, and her lips peeled back in the beginnings of a snarl as Siria took a step back and pointed towards the racks of clothing. “You can’t harm me or leave because of the seal,” she reminded her, her smile so wide it was almost feral. “So you’re keeping those boots, and you’re _going_ to pick some clothes that fit the _one criteria_ I laid out for you. And make sure you have enough to last you until the end of the week when I do the laundry! Got it?!”

The two held each other’s gaze for a few long moments, with Siria looking annoyingly happy while Namurta looked like she wanted to rip her to shreds. Finally, she let out another scoff and turned on her heel, storming towards the clothing racks. Her eyes widened, and she pumped her fist and whispered a triumphant _“Yes!”_

“Oh, and don’t forget toiletries and stuff!” she quickly called after her as she also pulled out her phone, fully intending to play games on it until Namurta came back. Just as she unlocked it, however, she suddenly paused, and a smile slowly spread across her face as she stuffed her phone back into her pocket and sprinted to another section of the store.

By the time Namurta returned with a basket of clothes, she found Siria waiting for her in the same place she’d been when she left, but was now holding a plastic bag as she bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet.

“C’mere, lemme see what you picked!” She wasted no time in digging through her basket, and raised a brow when she saw about ten of the exact same shirt, jeans, socks, etc. inside. However, she let out a gasp when she saw exactly what was printed on the shirt.

“Awww! I didn’t know you liked turtles!” she cooed, holding up one of the shirts Namurta had selected: a dark grey shirt with a low neckline and a faded turtle printed on the fabric. “…Or anything, for that matter,” she added thoughtfully. “Actually, I probably should’ve seen the turtle thing coming, since when you transformed into your demonic form I saw those turtle shell thingies near your collar—”

“Why does it matter what’s on my damn shirt?” she snapped, snatching the shirt back and throwing it into the basket. “They’re just clothes.”

“Yeah, but like…this shows you actually _care_ about something!” she said, looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I don’t, _you’re_ just reading too much into it,” she retorted.

“Well, even if you say you don’t, _I_ think you care,” she hummed, taking hold of Namurta’s wrist and gently tugging her along to the cash register. “C’mon! Those clothes aren’t going to pay for themselves!”

“Fine,” she muttered, her eyes moving back to the plastic bag hanging from Siria’s arm. “…What’s in the bag?”

She stopped walking and turned around, giving her a teasing smile. “It’s a surprise!” she sang, before turning away and skipping towards the cash register once more, having let go of her wrist in the process.

Namurta stared after her for a moment, then sighed tiredly and trudged after her, making a note to check the bag later when she wasn’t looking.

She paused, then shook her head and continued on her way. No, she didn’t care. It was just a bag—whatever it held was none of her business.

She didn’t care. Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
